


Day One

by Emma



Series: The Queen's Magicians [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma/pseuds/Emma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen's first day at work is… not the usual thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"So what's with the clothes?"

 

The Torchwood Three team, minus their boss, were sitting around the conference room table gorging on the best Chinese Gwen had ever had. She made a mental note to ask Ianto for the name of the takeaway place; Rhys loved Chinese but the place near their flat was utter rubbish.

 

She had spent the morning doing the things one did on the first day of work: filing out forms, touring the place, learning to use the computer systems. Captain Harkness – except everyone called him Jack – had said hello on his way out, looking like the poster boy for the Royal Air Force circa 1939.

 

"It's his monthly appointment with the Bishop." Ianto explained. "Mother Katherine likes the look."

 

The news that she would have to meet once a month with the Bishop of Cardiff for a spiritual consultation upset her less than she would have expected. The Abbess Katherine was known to be a powerful sensitive and a friend and champion of non-Christians.

 

"But he always wears the coat, doesn't he?"

 

"It could just be the gay thing," Owen quipped.

 

Gwen wasn't sure she liked doctor Owen Harper. "What do you mean?"

 

"Owen thinks he's gay," Toshiko said. "I don't."

 

"And I don't care," Ianto said with a shrug.

 

"But… but…" Gwen sputtered. "He can't be!"

 

"Gossiping about the boss again, children?" Jack bounced in, carrying a box from which emanated the most wonderful smell. "Dessert is courtesy of the episcopal kitchen."

 

Ianto stood up. "I'll get started with the coffee."

 

"Good. The Bishop drinks only herbal tea, bless her, and I've been…" Jack broke off the conversation and tapped his earpiece. "Yes, Andy." He listened for a few minutes. "Idiot. On our way."

 

"Sorry, kids," he said. "The gateau will have to wait. The police has just received a call from a Mrs. Grace Astley who lives on Allenbank, right next to Saint Peter at the Gates Cemetery. It seems her son Bryan found some eggs in the woods and decided to hatch them for his science project. She wondered if someone could tell her what bird lays yellow-green eggs with gold spots that glow in the dark."

 

"Shit!" Owen jumped up. "I'll get my kit."

 

"Tosh, Ianto, research. Ianto, keep an eye on the Rift just in case it's not an isolated incident. Gwen, with me."

 

She trotted after him. "Jack, what's wrong? What are those eggs?"

 

"Cockatrice."

 

"I thought they were a myth." At his raised eyebrow, she blushed. "All right, point taken. But I've never heard of any in Wales."

 

"They're native to Eastern Europe and some parts of the Mediterranean. The eggs either came through the Rift or some idiot on his Grand Tour brought them back."

 

She scrambled into the passenger seat of the SUV. Owen was already in the back seat, sorting through a suitcase-sized medical bag. "Are they as bad as it says in the books?"

 

"Worse." Owen said, holding on as Jack gunned the SUV. "Even their breath is poisonous. Thank god, when they are first hatched they don't have wings and legs yet, so they're easier to catch. The problem is the cemetery."

 

"Why?"

 

"St. Peter is a Roman Catholic Cemetery. They have a section outside the wall for murderers and suicides and others that did not receive last rites." Jack said, as he threw the SUV into a turn that made Gwen blanch. "If a cockatrice passes over the corpse of a person who died in anger or despair there's a good chance the corpse will become a revenant."

 

"Great Mother."

 

"Yes. Keep Her in mind, we might need Her to intercede later."

 

He pulled into Allenbank. There were four police cars parked in front of one of the three story Victorians that lined the street. Jack parked the SUV and jumped out. Gwen and Owen followed. Gwen wondered what her former police comrades thought of seeing her behind the much disliked and feared Captain Jack Harkness. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

 

As she reached the gate leading to the back garden, Eric Kenyon materialized out of the crowd. "And where do you think you're going?" She tried to shoulder past him but he pushed her back. "I don't think so. I say who comes and goes on this site."

 

"I think you will find," Jack's icy tones had them both whipping around, "that I say who comes and goes on this site. And if you keep trying to swing your minuscule dick at my people you'll find I can say who comes and goes in the police department too. Come on, Gwen."

 

She followed him, but not before noticing a few smothered grins. Kenyon was not well regarded by his fellow officers.

 

The garden was a pretentious formal affair too elaborate for the plain, honest Victorian, but it was beautifully in bloom, and Gwen gave an appreciative glance to the cascade of Cecile Brunner climbing roses mantling the wall. Near the back gate, several policemen, including Andy, were grouped around a tearful woman and a young man with the pugnacious scowl universal to all teenagers. One of the policemen was cradling a leashed weasel in his arms. Slightly beyond them, under a beautiful old plane tree, Owen, gloved and masked, was kneeling over a small nest holding five eggs.

 

"Gwen!" He shouted. "Get yourself gloves and a mask from the bag. I'm going to need some help."

 

She rushed forward and did as he instructed.

 

"Get me the small scalpel from the upper tray." He barked, not looking at her. "Most of them are infertile, but I want to look at the one at the bottom here."

 

She retrieved the scalpel and was moving towards him when she felt someone kick her in the back of the ankle, hard enough to send her tumbling forward, blade aimed directly at the Doctor. She twisted out of the way, but couldn't keep her balance. She came down right over the nest. The scalpel sliced right through one of the eggs.

 

"Dammit!" She felt Owen pull her out of the way. "Everyone, move! Out!"

 

There was a scramble as everyone ran from the hissing little snake that emerged from the egg. To Gwen's country eyes it resembled a grass snake, except that the spots and bars along the side were gold, instead of black, and its head was crowned by a tall fleshy ridge. It moved fast as lightning, slithering under the back gate and out towards the cemetery wall.

 

"Set the weasel!" Jack bellowed, running after it as it ran past him. "Owen, take the whole nest and take it back to the Hub. Gwen, move!"

 

She chased after him, as did Andy and the constable holding the weasel's leash. The little animal ran, hissing and screeching like a banshee, and they followed. The grass was thigh-high around the tumbledown stones, and the weasel moved so fast that they lost track of it several times, but each time the noises it made put them back on the trail. Suddenly they saw it ahead, crouched near the cemetery wall, hissing furiously at the cockatrice as it coiled on the top of a gravestone. Jack unholstered his Webley and shot almost without aiming. The little snake exploded in several pieces.

 

"Andy."

 

"We'll handle clean-up."

 

"Have Kenyon do it. He owes us for tripping Gwen." He looked down at the grave. "Thomas Crowne. Died 1682. Well, I don't suppose the dust will rise and walk."

 

They walked back towards the house. Behind them, the little weasel nosed about the grass, hunting for what was left of its enemy. Its searching uncovered another stone, set flush on the ground slightly behind and below the mound that marked Thomas Crowne's resting place.

 

 _Carys Weston. Beloved Child_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's a female bishop. There is strong circumstantial evidence that at least two women, Bridget of Kildare and Beoferlic of Northumbria were ordained bishops in the fifth century in the Irish Celtic Church. There were women who ruled over "joint monasteries," and women who were dalaighs (advocates in the courts), and women who were royal advisors. It wasn't until the Celtic rites were abandoned in favor of the Roman that women lost their positions in Celtic cultures.
> 
> The cockatrice, or basilisk, is a common "monster" and heraldic symbol; the revenant part of the legend is all mine.


	2. Chapter 2

Gwen bit into the forkful of cake and made ooohing noises as the chocolate-and-kirsch-flavored cream melted on her tongue. "And the bishop's cook makes these for us?"

 

Ianto distributed the coffee and sat down. "I don't know that this should be considered a healthy breakfast."

 

"Oh, hush, you," Tosh said. "Studies have shown that a daily dose of chocolate will have positive effects on your heart, skin, and brain." She turned to Gwen. "Each one of us gets a different one. Jack's is Black Forest Gateau. Ianto's is tiramisu with Sabra liqueur, Owen's is sticky toffee pudding, and I get cocoanut meringues. I don't know how Sister Enid chooses them, but they are perfect."

 

"Meringues?" Gwen moaned.

 

"Big, fluffy ones with shaved cocoanut… yum." Tosh licked her fork. "I wonder what she'll choose for you."

 

"Why is it that birds can get more fun out of sweets than sex?" Owen complained, wolfing down his slice in two bites.

 

"Probably because most of the time the sweets are better." Tosh retorted. "Come one, Gwen, let me show you how to run those searches you were asking about."

 

As she followed Tosh, coffee mug in hand, Gwen could hear Jack and Ianto snickering at Owen's whiny complaints. She grinned. Two days, and she felt more at home here than she had done after four years in the police department.

 

"So what is it you're trying to cross-tab?" Tosh asked.

 

"Well, according to this bestiary Jack gave me, a full-grown cockatrice's glare can turn someone to dust. Right? So if we cross tab police reports of missing people…"

 

"Where there was unexplained dust or other debris and we arrange the incidents by date, we can track the point of origin of the eggs." Tosh typed rapidly. "Oh, you're good."

 

"I'm a copper. That's all I've ever wanted to be."

 

"All right, it's running."

 

Gwen perched next to Tosh. "Now, show me how I would do it if I ever wanted to try something similar and you're on vacation or something."

 

Tosh gave her an incredulous look. "Vacation. You believe we get vacations. Let me tell you about Jack's idea of a…" She was interrupted by a soft ping. "Well, that was quick. Let's look."

 

She hit a few keys. Gwen, looking over her shoulder, gasped as she read the information. They looked at each other, and then shouted in unison.

 

"Jack!"

 

"I hear the dulcet tones of the Torchwood all-woman choir," Jack caroled as he came downstairs. "What are you two up to?"

 

"Gwen thought we could track the origin of the eggs by looking for missing persons where dirt or debris of some sort was found, so I set up a search program against police reports."

 

"Well done, ladies. And you got some hits?"

 

'We got two. But Jack… it was here. In Cardiff. Last night."

 

"That's not possible. After a cockatrice lays its eggs it leaves the area, otherwise its babies would have it for lunch when they hatch. And no, Gwen, before you ask, roosters don't lay eggs. That part is nonsense."

 

"I figured that out by myself, Jack," she answered tartly. "Tosh, can you bring up the reports?"

 

"Here we are. Thomas Sandiwell and Alan Jones, both twenty-three, Cardiff University students, out on the pull with some friends. At the Elephant Walk, that's the new club on Mermaid Quay, they were seen leaving at around one a.m. with a girl. When they didn't show up for classes or lunch the next day, their mates called police. They weren't anywhere to be found, but the police did find their clothes in the alley behind the club, thrown on top of some piles of dirt."

 

"Any CCTV footage?" Jack asked.

 

"Let's see." Tosh brought up the schematics of the surveillance system. "Yes, this one here. Look straight down the alley."

 

"You're telling me you can access the feed and record of any CCTV camera in Cardiff?" Gwen asked.

 

"You're thinking small, Gwen," Jack chided. "Ah. There we are."

 

Tosh's monitor showed a rather grungy alley ending on a blank wall. Overflowing rubbish bins lined the walls on either side. One or two doors stood open, spilling little pools of light onto the flagstones. It was empty for a few minutes. Then one of the doors swung wide open and three people staggered out. The two men looked exactly like what they were. The girl… Gwen sucked in her breath.

 

"What do you see, Gwen?"

 

'Two guys and a…"

 

"Gwen. Tell me what you see."

 

"She's not… alive. But she has an aura. Black. Flashes of red… lightning. So much rage. Jack…"

 

He raised his hand. She fell silent, watching him. His attention was completely focused on the monitor, where the two men had backed a very willing girl against the wall.

 

"Tosh. What do you see?"

 

"A very unhygienic act… eew, on the rubbish bin? They are exactly what one would expect, two college students getting lucky. She is small, slender to the point of emaciation, but rather pretty… there." A still show appeared at the bottom left hand part of the monitor. "Full frontal view of her face. I'll start the pattern-recognition software matching it against all vital records… oh."

 

The men had suddenly dropped to the flagstones, convulsing, as blood seeped through their skin. Above them, the girl stood, hair flowing out behind her in a non-existent wind, arms stretched out. Gwen could see their energies being drained into her, fading from green to blue to red to black as their bodies were consumed. At the end there were only two piles of dust and clothes left on the ground. The girl, smiling, stepped over them as if they were trash. She walked out of the alley, seemingly headed towards the pier.

 

"Tosh, can you pick her up?"

 

"I can try, but the cameras down there get sabotaged regularly. People don't like the police knowing what they're up to when they're misbehaving." She brought up the map again. "This could take some time."

 

"All right, you work on that. Ianto!"

 

"Right here, sir." Ianto stood behind them, Jack's coat over his arm. "And yes, I will handle the UNIT meeting. After all, I was the one who drew up the agenda. Owen is dissecting and analyzing the eggs."

 

He shook out the coat and helped Jack into it, twitching it into place and smoothing the shoulders with a caressing gesture. Gwen noticed the very private smile the two exchanged as Ianto stepped back. Out of their sight, she raised her eyebrows at Tosh, who gave her a small smile and nod before turning back to her keyboard.

 

"Come on, Gwen." Jack said. "We'll go have a chat with Thomas and Alan's mates. They might know something they're not telling the police."


	3. Chapter 3

Toshiko backed out of the NHS database, covering her tracks as she went. Even though any anti-hacking software that sniffed her out would be stopped in its tracks by the Torchwood mainframe's own security systems, she took pride in doing a thorough job. It did not do to become sloppy just because one had a failsafe backup.

 

She sat back, sighing with pleasure. It was in moments like this, when everything worked flawlessly and data was found, sorted and correlated into the proper pattern, that she truly understood that her psychic blindness was not the crippling disability her parents had obsessed over. Her materialistic skills, as her father contemptuously described them, served a purpose that honored her ancestors in ways he would never understand.

 

Her lips curved into a little smile as she wondered how Midori was doing these days. The last time they had spoken, her mother had told her that her cousin was once again getting married. It seemed the paragon's career consisted of finding progressively older and wealthier men to pay for her expensive tastes. Tosh chuckled as she admired her bespoke high-heeled boots. She managed very well on her own, thank you.

 

"Now that's a wicked little sound," Ianto remarked, offering her a fresh cup of coffee. "And yes, that is just amazing footwear. How you don't break your neck remains a mystery to all of us."

 

"Natural talent, Ianto. Natural talent." She waved at the monitor. "Have we heard from Jack and Gwen?"

 

"Not yet. Did you find anything?"

 

Tosh tapped a key and a police record filled the screen. The girl in the photo looked like the girl in the CCTV feed, but, in her hopelessness, she looked more dead than the revenant. "Carys Weston. Prostitution record. Kid got pregnant at sixteen and her parents kicked her out of the house. Conservative Catholics, wanted her to be a nun. She lost the baby and ended up working for one of the less reputable clubs. Killed herself at nineteen. She was buried outside the wall at St. Peter. Her father died three days later."

 

"Shit." Owen had come up behind them. "Can we find out who the father of the baby is? Because she's going to go for him sooner or later."

 

"I've been looking. Nothing so far. I'm going to…"

 

The soft ping that signaled incoming data interrupted her. She put it up on the screen.

 

"Missing person. Jonathan Astell, owner and operator of the KitKat Club… That's classy, isn't it? Imaginative too…There's a witness this time, a Mary Pennyman. Constable at the scene says they've had to take her to Psychiatric ICU. She was hysterical, screaming that a dead girl was coming to get them all." The computer pinged again. "Another report. A Mrs. Ellen Weston called 999. She says her daughter is trying to break into her house." She scribbled down the address and handed it to Ianto. "Owen…"

 

"Yeah." The doctor stripped off the lab coat. "Let's go, Ianto. Tosh, call Jack. Have them meet us there. Also, run a check on the teachers at her school. Married, middle-aged, tends to take students under his wing, maybe a few whispers have surfaced here and there. In cases like this there are hints all over the place but nobody wants to tackle the problem."

 

"All right."

 

"Hey, Tea-Boy, can we take the Sprite? It'll get us there faster."

 

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Yes, Owen, we can take my car. But you're not driving. You're never, ever driving it."

 

"Spoilsport."

 

The Weston house was in on of those Council subdivisions where considerable effort had been spent on making the neighbourhood look presentable, and yet it had a sad, derelict look to it. Perhaps it was the desolate expanse of closely-clipped grass, where all the other places around it had made an attempt at a garden, or at least a few window boxes filled with pansies or geraniums. Or maybe it was the shuttered windows, where many other places had cheerful curtains open to the afternoon breeze.

 

"Gawd, this is a depressing place," Owen muttered as they walked up to the front door. "No wonder the girl…"

 

Ianto help up a finger. "Listen."

 

Somewhere inside the house things were being shattered while a woman wailed.

 

Owen tried the front door. It swung open. They charged in, following the noises to the eat-in kitchen at the back of the house. What they found was so different from what they had been expecting that they were momentarily paralyzed. A woman wearing a faded housecoat was sitting at the table, staring into the distance, while Carys Weston screamed hoarsely at her as she stalked around the room throwing things to the floor.

 

The older woman turned to them. "Finally. Really, I don't know what use the police is these days. You've come to take her away, right?"

 

Owen started to say something but was stopped by Ianto's hand on his arm. He turned away in disgust as the Welshman stepped into the kitchen.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Weston. That's what we're here for."

 

"So she wasn't dead after all and the old man died for nothing. He wanted to be with her, he said, and he was dead and gone in three days. Didn't think about me once, did he? Leaving me in this place, having to live off charity…"

 

Ianto tuned her out as he approached Carys. The girl had snatched up a knife and was holding it inexpertly in both hands.

 

"Carys? Why don't you come with us and we can get this sorted out?"

 

She laughed hysterically. "Sorted out? They killed my baby. They threw me away like I was garbage. I'm sorting it out just fine. Go away."

 

"Have you thought about this? Suicides go to Purgatory, Carys, but murderers…"

 

He made a lunge at her. Slapping the knife out of her hand, he tried to restrain her by grabbing her wrists and using his body weight to pin her in place. But he hadn't counted on the terrible heat pouring off her skin. It burned his palms. He could smell burning flesh and Owen screaming at him to let go. Stubbornly, he tried to hang on, but finally he had to pull his hands away as his skin began to redden and blister.

 

Carys ran towards Owen, hands outstretched. He pivoted out of the way and tried to push her off balance as she went past him. She slapped at his shoulder, and the force of the blow sent him flying. His jacket burst into flames where she had touched it, and he yelped, tearing it off and stomping on it.

 

She ran out the front door. They gave chase, but she was moving incredibly fast. As they reached the pavement they saw the Torchwood SUV turn the corner. It screeched to a stop and Gwen jumped out, holding her police issue revolver in her hand and pointing it at the girl running towards them.

 

"Stop! Stop or I'll shoot. Stop!"

 

Carys cannonaded right into her, sending her to the ground. Gwen dropped the gun as her head bounced off the tarmac with the force of the impact. Carys looked at Jack, who was moving towards her from the other side of the car and laughed as she slammed her hands on the back of the SUV. The metal burst into flames. Jack changed course immediately, diving for the storage space under the front passenger seat. Pulling out the fire extinguisher, he aimed it at the fire. Carys ran down the street and was soon out of sight.

 

Ianto and Owen had reached Gwen and were helping her to her feet.

 

"Hey, newbie," Owen groused as he checked her over, "next time you have a gun pointed at an undead creature who's walking about turning people into dust, do me a favor and pull the trigger, ok?"

 

"Owen, stop bullying Gwen," Ianto said, "or I'll tell her all about your encounter with the succubus."

 

"No loyalty from one's colleagues," the Doctor muttered as he pulled the first aid kit from the smouldering SUV. "Come here and let me check those hands."

 

"What now?" Ianto asked Jack as the Captain put down the extinguisher to examine Ianto's hands himself.

 

"Now we try to figure out who she's going after next."

 

"The old bat knows something," Owen said. "Go work your charm while I take care of these two."


	4. Chapter 4

Gwen shook her head. "No excuses, Jack. I screwed up."

 

"Yes, she did."

 

"Shut up, Owen. Yes, Gwen, you did, but there were extenuating circumstances." He ticked them off on his fingers. "First, the situation looked like something out of a police training exercise, so you reacted like a cop. Second, it looked like a young girl rushing at you. Under ordinary circumstances she could have been drunk, on drugs, or even the victim of a crime. Again, you reacted like a cop. And third, you would have been less than human if you hadn't been startled."

 

"So how do I unlearn all this stuff I know? Learn how to do it right? Because I can get myself or somebody else killed if I don't."

 

"You study. You train. You listen to people with more experience. You survive your mistakes and you figure out how not to make them again." He grinned at her. "And when you fall flat on your arse you take all the crap Owen here is going to hand you without throttling him. Strictly speaking, throttling the staff is my job."

 

"Of course," Ianto said, "if Jack doesn't actually catch you with your hands around his throat, I could be persuaded to provide an alibi."

 

"You just wait until your next physical, Tea Boy. I guarantee you won't be able to sit on your bum for a week."

 

They had waited for the police at the Weston house. Jack had exerted all his charm on Mrs. Weston but had met with a blank stare and a complete refusal to speak to anyone. The only good news was that Kenyon had been assigned to desk duty for a while. Andy told them that he had made so many stupid comments and threats in front of senior officers that he had been disciplined.

 

Kenyon's absence seemed to make the constables more relaxed. Some even teased Gwen about the state of the SUV, but she got her own back when an identical one turned the corner and came to a stop in front of the house. Two dour men got out and handed the keys to Ianto, taking the keys of the damaged one from Jack with resigned looks.

 

The question of who rode with whom – Gwen had been ready to arm wrestle Owen for a chance at the Sprite – was solved when Jack plopped himself down on the passenger seat. He gave them a smug grin and waved them to the new SUV. Gwen had to endure Owen's sarcastic commentary on her performance all the way back to the Hub, which had led to Jack finding them in the parking lot with her hands around Owen's throat and the subsequent conversation.

 

Jack barely waited for the cog door to roll before bounding into the Hub.

 

"Toshiko. My beautiful, clever Toshiko. Tell me you have something."

 

"I have something." Her eyes went wide at the sight of Ianto's bandaged hands. "What happened to you?"

 

"Our hero tried to hang on to a revenant with his bare hands," Owen answered. "He's on light duty for a few days. He can still make the coffee, but someone else will carry the tray. Bandages will be changed twice a day, and no, he can't do it by himself. Ok? Ok." He plopped down at his work station. "God, I am tired and sore. And my jacket is a tax deduction."

 

Jack waved off the doctor's complaints. "Tosh, what did you find for us?"

 

"One Edward Gwynne. Married, two kids at Uni. Wife is an accountant. Edward teaches maths at St. Anne's Preparatory for Girls and is by all accounts excellent at it. He has taught at several other Catholic schools. He seems to move to a new job every four or five years. In fact, he's leaving Cardiff at the end of the school term for a post somewhere in Yorkshire. I made some phone calls. Let's just say the silence was very enlightening."

 

"Address?" Tosh handed him a piece of paper. "Gwen, Owen, with me. Ianto…"

 

"Jack. There's something else." Toshiko interrupted. "I've been monitoring the police frequencies. A few minutes ago there was a rather nasty exchange between the Cardiff Central superintendent and one of the constable sergeants."

 

"Kenyon?"

 

"Yes. The superintendent was reaming him for leaving his desk without permission and Kenyon told him that he knew who _she_ was going after and he was going to get there before fucking Torchwood."

 

"In abuse cases," Owen said quietly, "authorities sometimes tend to give the abuser the benefit of the doubt, especially if he's a member of good standing of a religious group."

 

"Son of a… Let's go, kids. Ianto, you stay here. Tosh, keep an eye on him. Burn victims can go into shock suddenly."

 

"Will do. And don't make a face at me, Mr. Jones." She pointed to the station next to hers. "There's actually something interesting for you to do. Remember those odd energy readings we got last week? They're back. And they're all yours."

 

The Gwynnes lived in one of the professional enclaves in Roath, near the park. Kenyon's police car was parked in front. Male voices and a woman's screams could be heard, loud enough for a few curious neighbours to have gathered on the pavement. Gwen noticed that the arrival of the SUV with its Torchwood logo caused people to remember they had business elsewhere. The road was empty in what seemed like seconds.

 

"You know, this breaking and entering gig is getting really old," Owen muttered.

 

"It's only breaking and entering if it's locked," Jack said as he touched the handle and the door swung open. "Gwen, stay with Owen and pay attention."

 

One of the male voices had become a long wordless wail that raised Gwen's hackles. She followed Owen as he chased Jack upstairs. One of the bedrooms had been converted into an office. Eric Kenyon lay crumpled against the far wall, mewling and retching, more like an animal than a human being. Carys Weston stood over the rapidly decomposing remains of… something that might at some point have been a man. She looked up at their arrival and smiled gently.

 

"You're too late. I'm almost done." She released the shirt she was holding. "He offered to pay for an abortion. He had done it before, he said. He screamed at the end. He sounded like a baby. Do you think my baby sounds like that in Purgatory?" She pointed at Kenyon. "He's the last. Edward sent him to my parents. He told them I was a slut who deserved punishment. My baby died because of him."

 

"Carys." Jack walked into the room, hands out so she could see he didn't have a weapon. "Unbaptized babies don't go to Purgatory. The Church says they remain perfectly happy and content in a special place in limbo. You know that."

 

She shook her head. "No. Father William says the Church's teachings have become twisted because it's trying to become modern. He says they go to Purgatory and they have to be redeemed. That's why I killed myself. I thought, if suicides go to Purgatory, we can be together and it won't matter. You see?"

 

"Father William was wrong. You baby is perfectly happy and content. I swear it to you." Jack kept moving closer, putting himself between Kenyon and Carys. "But you've killed three people. Who's going to take care of your baby now?"

 

"I couldn't find him! I just wandered in the dark until I was outside again and I knew what I had to do. See, if I make them pay for their sins, then my baby and I will be redeemed. The two guys… I just needed the strength. I need to find my baby!"

 

She exploded into motion, shoving at him as she tried to get at Kenyon. Jack staggered under the impact, but held on, enfolding her in his arms. Remembering Ianto's burns, Gwen tried to rush in, but Owen slammed her against the door.

 

"You said you wanted to learn. Learn, then."

 

Gwen watched as Jack pulled Carys against him until her head was resting on his chest and pressed his lips to the top of her head. Their bodies began to glow. Slowly, as the glow became stronger, the girl became more and more insubstantial, until Jack was holding what seemed to be a column of light. Then, suddenly, it all dissipated and Jack stood alone. He opened his eyes and looked at them. For a moment his eyes burned pure gold, and then the fire died and his beautiful blue eyes were back to normal.

 

"Owen?"

 

"Wait in the SUV. Gwen and I can handle the rest."

 

Gwen watched Jack go downstairs then turned to Owen. "What the hell just happened? Who is he? What is he?"

 

"Among other things, Jack is a Gate. In certain circumstances he can help souls cross the Wall."

 

"But only Blessed ones can do that! Or…"

 

Owen nodded. "Jack's mother was raped by a demon. His aunt, the Abbess Muirgheal of Dumfries, baptized him as he was being born, but she couldn't completely counteract his father's nature. Jack has spent his life atoning for something that isn't his fault. Each time he does that it hurts like bloody blazes but he still does it." He sighed. "Come on. You call Andy. I'll deal with Kenyon. Bastard's probably going to spend the rest of his life in Providence Park. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The belief that unbaptized children's souls ended up in limbo was overturned recently when the Church officially announced that it was very possible they actually went to Heaven.
> 
> If someone notices a similarity between Jack's birth and some of the legends of Merlin the Magician... yes. It's intended but it's only a similarity.


End file.
